


Incense

by ImASlutForScience



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alchemy, Alliances are made hoes, Creature Talker Harry Potter, Equality Activist Lily Potter, F/M, Fred George Bill Charlie Percy are the sane Weasleys, Had an existential crisis while researching for this fic, Intelligent Harry Potter, Lily Potter is sane, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, Metamorphmagus Harry Potter, Oblivious Harry, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), So are most of the adults, Tom is a possessive bastard, Tom is somewhat sane, Weasley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), but we love him, obviously, otherwise, thats strange, woah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:00:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImASlutForScience/pseuds/ImASlutForScience
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Viktor Krum/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. Prologue: The Birth Of The Messenger.

Lady Hecate was a proud figure in Earth mythology. She possessed an experimentalist way of godhood, devoutly creating what was practised by few today: ‘ _The Ineffable and Intrinsic art that is Magic™️_ ’. She was a loving friend to her fellow gods; collaborative in her desires to expand her talent, creating new branches and theories for her followers to find and develop, integrating many different ideals from many other gods into her works. She wanted all those under her reign treated equally, the devastating blows against each faction wasting her efforts and time, the spokespeople sent down doing nothing against the segregationist light faction leaders. She found herself angered, in pain, and upset at the actions of those that followed her, and found herself reaching a tipping point when they used her name to defend their actions.

She was also understandably, horrifyingly, _profoundly_ …bored. 

Yes, she could worry about Dumblewhore’s scheming, his obsession with the hallows and her sister, his manipulations of the young Riddle boy, or even said young boy’s overflowing potential…but she wasn’t that bored. No, you see she was in that state, the one in which someone has had fun and is waiting for something to catch their attention—something that wasn’t too interesting or challenging, but is something. 

So, in the most genius move ever known amongst the gods, she decided to have a child. 

“How in the actual _fuck_ did you decide that?” Death yelled at her from her spot in the kitchen, watching as Hecate started jotting ideas for her child’s gifts in a notebook. “Who are you going to let have them? What gender do you want? What’s their name? How are you going to talk to them? Who’ll be their soul pair? Will they even have one? Will they have multiple?” 

Hecate smiled as she crossed out her first idea with a scribble, flopping into the pillows of the sofa and holding the book above her face, “Death, sweetie, you’re rambling again.” 

Death just snorted, sitting backwards in the open air yet appearing on the couch, blackened scythe held in front of her like a stiff cane, “I’ll survive, so answer.”

Death glanced over as Hecate chewed her pen while scratching in another idea, kicking her legs to her own rhythm as she lay stomach-down across the couch, her pale pink robe swishing along to her imaginary tempo.

“Hey Hecate! Answer me.” 

Hecate scoffed, rolling onto her back and letting her hair tumble down the couch side, “I’m concentrating, shut up.” 

“My dearest, darling sister, you are never, ever concentrating. If you were, you wouldn’t have screwed up the Imperius ‘charm’. You know, the one you meant as a _pain nullifier_ -” 

“Ok fineeee.” Hecate whined, letting the notebook fall into open air yet appearing on the kitchen island, her hands moving to support her head as she stared at Death, “I get your point. 1. I have absolutely no clue as to who will raise them. 2. I don’t care about their gender, but maybe male? I don’t know. 3. I’m thinking Hadrian, Ivory, Alex, or Virgil as their name, I still don’t know.” She shrugged, her head collapsing into Death’s legs, “What were your other questions?” 

Death let the answers register for a few seconds, then repeated, “How will you talk to them, and will they have a soul pair, and if so, how many?” 

Silence simmered for a while, Hecate and Death staring off into the kitchen as Hecate thought through Death's questions. 

Hecate wanted to talk to her child, visit them even, but it may be possible that her child’s surrogate parents would be overwhelmed with her presence…along with half of any surrounding life…including nearby objects. You see, gods tended to have an instantly recognisable presence when going to Earth, often leaving either terrain anomalies or ripping holes in the flimsy fabric of the human dimension; hence the Grand Canyon, the lowest parts of the Mariana Trench, the Bermuda Triangle, and the Great Blue Hole in Belize. Humans sporadically appeared through the rips, resulting in spontaneous rebirth. It never was good on their souls, though.

“Definitely will have a soul pair…at least one.” Hecate started, her attention drawn as her sister’s cloak swirled around her scythe like liquid shadows, the barest whispers licking the air before it swirled back into the cape, “I’m thinking someone in the dark. Not too insane, otherwise we’ll have a deranged bonded to my child, and I don’t think having a psychopath becoming immortal would do good on my workload, so….”

Death sighed as she slumped into the couch, letting her scythe fall and disappear, “What about the part of you talking to them.”

“Visions, I guess. Their gifts should also show my favour and delight, they’ll be powerful. Oh!” She gasped, hurriedly noting down another idea, “Why don’t they become your chosen?!”

Death stilled, empty eyes closing, the idea flickering behind her eyelids. The pair sat in silence, the occasional noise of a pen scratching against paper the only thing audible. The trouble with being outside of space and time is that you can’t know how long something’s taken, or even if it’s taken any time at all; so it’s debatable as to how long the two women spent thinking, but eventually Death seemed to come to a conclusion.

“If they prove themselves, then maybe.”

Hecate smiled slightly, “Well, that solves your problem, now onto mine. _How do you think the Potter’s sound for a good family?_ ”

* * *

“I dibs Godfather!” Merlin yelled, vaulting over Arthur as he ran to say hi to the pair, bouncing at the idea of a small child. His servant clothes had long since been traded out, forgone for the flowy fashion of the god realm, his long-sleeves swishing delicately as he dashed to Hecate, having just heard the news from the woman herself.

Arthur yelped, whipping around as his husband ran over to the sisters, “Merlin you idiot, calm down!” 

“You're just salty that I called dibs first.” Merlin laughed, skidding to a stop before he pounced on Death.

Arthur’s eyebrow twitched. “I am nOt-“

“You guys need to chill.” Hecate sighed as a smile lit her face, passing the notebook to Merlin as he moved to cling to her arm, stuck like a limpet as she walked into the couples house, “I know what he’s gonna be called, alongside his biological gender and the talents I’ll give him, but the rest is up to the Potters and their hereditary gifts, alongside their biology’s.”

Arthur nodded his head, prying the small wizard off her arm as she sat down at the stone block table, the rest of the jungle themed house fading to just beyond the eye of an observer, as if it was behind a thick mist. “Do continue, Lady Hecate.” Arthur invited.

“I don’t think I will.” Hecate said, snorting as Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“That would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it Pendragon.” Death snarked, an amused quirk to her lips as the man looked at her in indignation.

Merlin, always the tactful one, interrupted. “Ok! Please tell me I have a chance to give him a gift?” 

He fell backwards against Arthur’s chest, the sandy-haired man unconsciously hugging him closer as the warlock muttered ideas to himself in rapid succession, Hecate’s affirmative nod only doing more for the flood of ideas spilling out of the warlock's mouth.

* * *

“ _Salazar_ ~”

“Godric I swear-“

“He’s a Potter! They’re all mighty Gryffs!”

“He’ll be a Slytherin! He’s Hecate’s son for Morgana’s sake!”

“Boys.” Helga sighed, pulling Godric away from his sword before he drew it, “Come on now.”

“Helgaaaa-“ They both whined, Slytherin looking over at Hecate as Helga brushed down Godric’s robes.

“You say you’ve given him Beastspeach?” Rowena asked, sipping her tea delicately as she silently offered the tea tray to Death, who shook her head and pulled out a Vodka bottle from no-where. 

“Yes, but it's extended to international human tongues as well. Might as well give him something fun to brag about.” Hecate laughed, taking another sugar cube and eating it, ignoring Rowena’s huff of protest.

Godric and Salazar, having stopped long enough to hear the last part of Hecate’s announcement, turned to look at each other, somehow agreeing to stop arguing in just the simple glance.

“Does that extend to genetically transmitted types, such as Parseltongue?” Slytherin questioned lightly, moving over to the table and taking the offered tea.

“Everything means everything, Salazar.” Death breathed after surfacing from her alcohol, wiping her mouth with her pointed thumb.

“Wow. That’s one powerful Gryffindor.” Godric smirked, bolting as Salazar slammed his cup down.

“It’s most likely he’ll be in either my house or Helga’s actually, with the mass of allies he will likely create with that gift alone.” Ravenclaw corrected, grinning into her teacup as the two men gaped at her.

“I don’t have to listen to you, woman!” Godric screeched, falling into his red cushioned chair with the look of utter betrayal crossing his face.

“Just don’t tell him young Hadrian can talk to Lions.” Helga whispered to Hecate, smiling as Griffindor started arguing with Slytherin on how to properly brew tea.

* * *

“You sure about this?”   
  


“Nope.” 

“You still doing it?”

“Yep.”

“Great.”

“I know right.”

Death and Hecate watched as Hadrian’s soul flew to Earth, landing in the embryo next to his sister just as Lily Potter placed a hand over her stomach, holding the positive pregnancy test with a sparkling smile as James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Agatha Potter all cheered.


	2. The Wrath Of The Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before the actual plot comes in!
> 
> It was a drag to write!

Agatha Potter was a fine girl, her invigorating age of 2 sparking immense interest at her powerful, albeit completely rampaging, accidental magic. She was vastly intelligent, knowing how to read all of 3 words and babbling around 50 as she waddled through the Potter Mansion, tightly gripping the wall as she made her way around the lounge. She looked over to the door as Lily banged it open, yelling at her father for a ‘Floo Powder’ while clutching her swollen belly.

Agatha tottered over as Remus jogged in her direction, scooping her up in his arms and giving her a quick kiss on the head as he marched through the green fire that her mum had just staggered through. Uncle Sirius ran through after them, a beaming smile fixed on his face as her mum groaned from inside the ‘delivery room’? Agatha stared at him with an adorable scrunched up face, her confusion evident despite her overall lack of understanding for everything.

“Hello, little Pup! You know what today is, right?” The black haired man exclaimed, ignoring the violent cussing of the red haired woman from inside the room directly next to his ear.

“Uncle Siri!” Agatha giggled, reaching out her little hands and squealing in delight as Remus flew her through the air like she was on a broom, directly into his husband's arms.

“Aww, you must be tired pup.” Sirius bemoaned, slouching down the wall into a sitting position, “Why’d the little pups have to be born at 8:00pm?”

Remus sat down next to Sirius, stroking the shaggy hair of his husband as Sirius sat Agatha in his lap, “Didn’t you and James just get off your shifts?” He asked softly, as to not disturb Agatha, who was babbling about brooms…or something. Hard to tell when she had her hand in her mouth.

“Yeah, as soon as we got back to the manor we heard Lily rush to us yelling about her broken water. Like, not to judge Lil’s, but _TMI_.” Sirius sighed, shifting his head to rest in Remus’s neck, the werewolf smiling absently into the wall, his nose twitching at the smell of antiseptic.

“It’s a big event, Siri.”

“Didn't have to know how it started.”

For nearly 4 hours, they listened as Lily screamed and cursed so colourfully that it really was commendable that Agatha didn’t pick up at least one phrase. Then again, the two year old had fallen asleep at the one hour in mark, as well as Sirius. Remus had kept his vigilance and stayed awake, and finally, after midnight had struck and James had managed to keep his composure for long enough, the group of three made their way into the room, Sirius promptly tripping over his own feet and nearly slamming headfirst into the wall, Remus saving Agatha with a quick snatch. Lily let a smile grace her completely exhausted face, her eyes locked onto the two bundles in the cribs.

“Are those my godchildren?” Sirius asked excitedly, jumping over to the white cribs and squealing girlishly as he looked down at the two children.

“Yep, all yours Padfoot.” Lily rolled her eyes, slumping into her bed as the rest of the men crowded around the two babies, James taking Lily’s hand and grinning at her.

Remus held Agatha as she began verbally spewing up an incomprehensible mash of words in her excitement, wildly gesturing over the babies and giggling as if she just found out how to.

“Who’s older?” Sirius questioned James, shying away from Lily as the woman looked all but dead.

“Hadrian, by ten minutes.” He announced, holding up his copy of the births the midwife had just passed to him, “‘Hadrian Remus Potter, born 11:59pm the 31st of July, 1980, to parents Lily Mae Potter, née Evans, and James Fleamont Potter.’”

“Remus?” Remus repeated startled, looking over the document as James passed it to him, where it indeed stated the name ‘Remus’ as part of Hadrian’s name.

“What about the other pup then?” Sirius bounced, fiddling with the girls blanket as Remus stood stunned.

“Emily Lily Potter, born 00:09am on the 1st of August, 1980, to parents-”

“-I know who the parents are, Prongs.” Sirius laughed, making his way around to Lily’s side to pat her arm, the tired woman just tilting her eyes up to glance at him, “Well done Lils.”

Lily sighed, groaning as she shuffled to sit up slightly higher, all the men moving to help her, “I damn well deserve a Butterbear, James.”

* * *

  
  


“Lily! Remus! Run and take the kids!” James yelled as the black cloaked figure made his way up the path, Pettigrew scuttling behind him with a look of shame on his face.

“James I swear to _Hecate_ -” Lily screamed back, taking Agatha and Hadrian as Remus picked up a screaming Emily.

“Not the time for disagreement love.” James whispered to her, kissing her on the cheek before running to the front door, Sirius kissing his trembling husband then sprinting off after James.

“Let’s go, Moony.”  


Remus nodded, jumping out the way as the floor caved in. He frowned as a strip of silver hair ran out from under the blast zone, both of the adults promptly sprinting to the children’s room as the apparition wards locked around them, Lily following while she began to set wards around the door and walls.

“Stupefy!” Yelled a seductive voice from the ground floor, the sound of two people crumpling easily heard through the tiny house. Suddenly, Dumbledore’s ‘fail safe’ plan seemed to pale in comparison to the wards surrounding Potter Mansion.

“Fucking hell.” Lily choked, setting Agatha and Hadrian in Hadrian’s crib, Emily refusing to sit quietly as Remus tried to shush her. Agatha moved over to Hadrian, hugging him closer as she cried quietly, shaking violently at the loud bangs and hisses that came with duelling wizards, and their aftermaths.

Remus finally gave up his endeavour, opting to just set the girl down and continue with the wards, Lily moving to help him. They were both suddenly flying backwards as the door buckled open, splinters and chunks of wood showering the room.

The tall figure of Voldemort stepped through the door with an unnatural grace, his gleaming, violent eyes scouring the room as Remus and Lily fell, hit with his silent stunners.

He walked over to cribs, languidly stepping over the rubble falling from the roof, the three children looking up at him in interest and slight fear.

The first was obviously the eldest, around three years old, her short blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail and green eyes speckled with brown around the pupil, her hands stretched out in front of her as wide as she could put them, protecting the second child in the cot. The other girl, screaming from the crib next to the two carmer children, looked the same age as the boy, her brown hair laid on her head in a tuft of ‘Potter hair’, her otherwise green eyes slightly darker then her fathers, teary from her constant shrieking. Then his attention moved back to the boy, sitting silently as he observed the Dark Lord.

The man halted his movement. The boy's eyes were shifting between a slit and a round pupil, the vivid emerald staying glowingly bright, the same colour and shape of his mother’s, the exact shade of the killing curse. They were round but not overly so, doe-like but not too droopy, big but not too exaggerated for his face. His hair was surprisingly thick and wavy, albeit a bit messy—an influence of the ‘Potter hair’—while also jet black with dark ginger highlights. He definitely looked like his father, but not overly so, Lily’s gracefully smooth features making up for where his father was seemingly average. He was gorgeous. 

All that aside, his magic was tangibly thick, but not so abrasive as the man’s own. It felt like being submerged in cool water on a hot day, or a warm bath after being in the snow. It was impossibly, perfectly neutral.

This boy.

He was his.

Their magic fit together as a whole, the dark influence of Voldemort’s magic doing nothing but dancing against the smooth texture of Hadrian’s, contradictory as to when it touched others—where his started to infiltrate and addict.

Soulmates.

He flicked his wand, small orbs of light bouncing out the top to form animals. He could almost hear Lady Magic’s scream of approval as he walked to the boy, stroking a finger down the child’s cheek as he picked him up, his older sister content to watch the small light animals he conjured, his little mate grabbing at them and comically gasping as they disappeared. The littlest girl started sobbing, clutching the bars of her crib as the animals started floated towards Hadrian.

“Hello, darling.” He whispered to the young boy, hugging the laughing child into his grip, “I’m going to have to leave you with your parents, but I’ll see you in your dreams.” He kissed the top of the child’s forehead, the feeling of wrongness stemming through him as he moved to put Hadrian down.

“I never did put you for a kidnapper, Tom.” A grandfatherly voice stated from the doorway.

“Albus, you really do have to spin this situation, don’t you.” Voldemort growled, shifting Hadrian into his arm and almost laughing as his little soulbond hissed at the headmaster, scales popping up along his cheeks and his fangs elongating.

“I won’t let you deceive me, Tom!” Albus yelled, throwing a considerably dark hex at Voldemort, right next to where Hadrian was. Voldemort simply waved his hand, the hex dissolving, as he narrowed his crimson eyes, “Careful of the children, Albus.”

Albus shot another jinx, Voldemort retaliating with a hex and hitting Albus squarely in the chest; he watched in satisfaction as the old man doubled over, breathing heavily.

“I’ll have to go, little one, before the Auror idiots arrive.” He sighed, moving to place Hadrian back in his cot.

_ “Avada Kedavra!” _

Voldemort’s face drained of colour, green light filling the room as he spinned, putting Hadrian in the cot as he flung his arms outwards, blocking the curse from the children as he screamed in pain.

The backlash was incredible. The roof nearly fell in, the walls spattering with blood as a chunk cut down Emily’s face in the shape of a lightning bolt, Hadrian sprouting spontaneous wings that sheltered himself and Agatha, rocks bouncing off the strong appendages like rubber balls. Albus was blasted backwards, his head slamming into the wall with a sick thud, crumpling to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. Agatha and Harry cried out in alarm, the red eyed man that had made the little light animals dissolving into dust, the wisps of blue mist streaking out the window after caressing around Hadrian’s shaking form, the little scar of a heart appearing on Hadrian’s wrist.

They sat there as the room came to finally settle, the last dust falling as all the adults in the house seemed to wake up from their stunned sleep.

“Lily?!”

“Remus? Baby are you ok?!”

James and Sirius all but fell into the room, running over to their partners and gently helping them to get up.

“Agatha? Hadrian? Emily?” Lily coughed, covering her mouth as she got out from the dust and rubble covering her. All four adults moved over to the children, Remus in Sirius’s arms as his lower leg bled sluggishly, his grey robes marred with blood and dust.

Albus groaned, immediately gaining the attention of all four, “Voldemort was- Voldemort was-” he jerked his head up, wincing as his neck cracked, “Do any of them have a mark?!” 

“Albus! Good god, are you ok?” Lily whispered, looking over the man in concern as she moved towards her children.

“Fine, fine, but do any of the children have a mark?”

“Emily…” James gasped, moving to wipe the blood off the uproarious girl, “A lightning bolt cut, Albus.”

Albus seemed to stall, before he started laughing, “Emily is the girl who lived!”

Albus didn’t remember his fight, having hit the wall as hard as he did, but Hadrian remembered. And Hadrian was fuming at the man who hurt his soulbond.

He could feel the connection.

The man was still alive.

But by Hecate,

Dumbledore would regret firing the ‘final’ curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hecate: YESSSSS! Get him Tommyboy!
> 
> *Albus has entered the chat*
> 
> Hecate: You son of a BITC-


End file.
